There is a small bar halfway between my apartment and the Consulate where I stop several times a week to have a beer on the way home.  One of the owners, a young man named Luciano will come and sit with me to learn English and teach me Portuguese.  When I told him my 99 year old mother wants to see pictures of the people I meet, he smiled but kept muttering : noventa e nove (ninety nine) over and over again.

So, my Portuguese class is sitting at a bar with a young man who is hungry to learn English, while I sit drinking the local beer, hungry to learn Portuguese.

This is why Life is so amazing.  So enjoyable.  So satisfying.

One of Life’s infinite adventures to follow.  Terese knew, and I am learning.

The head of the Housekeeping team is Pedro.  Pedro’s people go through the offices to clean and empty the trash, and I find them to be good people at the core.

Every Thursday morning Pedro comes to my shop/office and cleans, and a few months ago he cleaned my coffee cup.  For serious coffee drinkers, this is a big No-No.  I am proud of the seasoned cup I drink my coffee from.  So, it being his first time, I gently chewed his butt out and told him not to do it again.  (evidently, he must not be a coffee drinker)

Well, Thursday afternoon, I looked for my coffee cup and did not readily find it.  I sat at my desk perusing the last hours since drinking coffee to determine where I left it.  This is not an unusual thing for me to do, as my cup accompanies me regularly, and as in the past I had to acquiesce it would eventually show up.

So, I went to get a different cup and noticed there was another `Turkish’ cup like the one I normally use.  It took several seconds to realize, I only have one `Turkish’ cup and this was it, except it had been cleaned.  Again.

I will not repeat the words that came to mind about Pedro.

So, me being a forgiving man I decided not to chew his butt out, but left a permanent reminder for him not to wash my cup again.  I created a notice that I place directly on the coffee cup in a language he would understand.  “Do Not Wash” We’ll see if he can read.

There is a pet shop down across the street from the apartment building, that has two dogs in their driveway who often decide to bark in the middle of the night.  It is most irritating.

Now, as you will remember from your childhood, the times you started crying and your father (or a mean mother) told you, “If you want to cry, I will give you something to cry about.”  Well, I decided if these animals wanted to bark, I will give them something to bark about.

So, I chose to purchase several slingshots to pester these damn dogs, but the problem I have living overseas is the slingshot is considered a weapon.  I find that baffling, because what harm can you possibly do with a sling shot?

So, I contacted a nefarious individual in the States who I often do business with, who shall remain nameless, to purchase, disassemble and ship me two slingshots in separated mailings to deceive the postal people.  In anticipation for the upcoming dog disruption I knew I would cause, I also ordered a bag of paintballs …. and marbles to use as a last resort.

Once I finally got Gary’s shipment, I hastily assembled the weapons of mass disruption and pulled out the paintballs.  When the sun sat enough to keep me from being easily recognized from my 9^th floor balcony, I proceeded to fire paintballs down to the pet shop across the street.

Unfortunately, the paintballs do not have enough mass to travel all the way across the street to the pet shop, so, I had to use the marbles.

Once I had the angle of trajectory (AoT) figured out, I could send marbles directly into the driveway.  It was an amazing thing to see.  These little clear glass projectiles were probably traveling a million miles an hour and yet I could watch them as they passed under the street light to their intended target.  See below.

Of the 40-50 marbles I sent into their territory, only about 10% made it to the target; and the only reaction I got out of them is one would get up to see if it was something to eat, while the other rolled over and licked its butt.  And they seemed to swap on who was going to see if it was something to eat, and who was going to lick their butt.

But I guarantee you, if an old widow woman were to walk by dragging her grocery cart behind her, heading home to feed her hungry children with what little money she had, those damn dogs would have come alive with every intention of tearing her apart, as if she were an infamous dog hunter like one of those you see on the reality shows.

Well, since the paintballs were of no use for the damn dogs, I decided to use them to pepper the building with the white roof below with splats of colored paint.  While doing that, I wondered what the people inside thought about the popping noise on their roof.  No one stepped out the back to see what it was.  Perhaps best, because I would have shot them with paintballs.  … I was watching for them.

…  I love being ornery.

In order to be a Pumpkin Pie Master, you have to bake at least 15 pumpkin pies.  I baked 20 today.  Yesterday, my friend and I met with some of the Marines at a favorite Irish pub.  We have been there several times before.  Below is a picture taken by our waitress, Alice (pronounced Aleece – long E at the end) and then one of her and me.   … because she is nice to look at.Next, I will tell you about some damn dogs.

There are several guava fruit trees on the Consulate’s compound and it is the  time of year that they drop their fruit.  It makes a mess, but one consolation is the sweet fragrance they give off once they break open.There is one tree that hangs over a driveway as if its only purpose in life is to carpet the roadway with guava fruit.  The gardeners struggle to keep it cleaned up.  If I can get a picture of the mess, I will post it.

I had a small Wingfest Sunday evening with only the people who live in the apartment complex I do.  Here are a few pics of them. Nothing elaborate.  Just good food and good people.  And a very cute little girl!  I was asked by her parents if I would like to baby-sit sometime, and I responded, If she is potty trained.

Last Saturday I went on a tour of the Goes winery, and a quick stop at two others.  Below are a few pics.The wine is fermented in the tanks that look like ovens, which are lined in paraffin.  The paraffin has to be changed out every few days, and I cannot imagine it not being quite a mess.  The company will be going to the stainless steel tanks seen on the right.  Below are some of the holding tanks the wine is moved to before bottling. As with any place like this that involves humans, you will find interesting stories.  Look at the three barrels below.The wine in the middle barrel has been there for 35 years and no one knows anything about it.  The only person who knew was fired and he refused to tell anyone.  Below is a machine that cleans, fills, caps and labels 2 liter jugs of wine.  They told us that line is only operated once a year when a 97 year old man and his 103 year old wife come by to purchase 40 jugs of the wine.  It is said once the couple crosses the rainbow bridge, the assembly line will be dis-assembled.Brazilian wine is not one of my favorites as I prefer Chilean, but it was interesting to go on this tour.  And I did laid awake that night thinking about that 35 year old barrel of wine and wondered what it would taste like.

D.